


Drunken Sailor

by CrashStack



Series: Fics for Rainb0we! [16]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cole/Withered Foxy, Foxy/Withered Foxy, Frazier is Cole's Middle Name, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starting Over, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Wade/Withered Freddy, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashStack/pseuds/CrashStack
Summary: Frazier's at it again, drinking away the pain. This time might be it, the time he drinks himself to death, but someone's keen on making sure that he's taken care of. Foxy's just glad somebody stopped his idiot body-buddy from taking another bottle.
Relationships: Withered Foxy/Withered Freddy (Five Nights at Freddy's)
Series: Fics for Rainb0we! [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526105
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Drunken Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm alive! Double yes, it's my best friend's birthday! Bowie's 17 as of today, make sure to send him some love and birthday wishes on tumblr!
> 
> This is my gift to him, a rewrite of an _old_ fic I wrote for him that was one of his favorites. This has been completely revised and updated to his current universe with his favorite himbo and twink. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as he did!
> 
> _Foxy and Frazier share a body, they're not the same character_

_“Ye’ve got ta stop.”_

“Shut u’.”

_“Frazier, stop.”_

“I said shu’ u’!”

_“Ye’re goin’ ta drink yerself ta death.”_

The laughter that bubbled from Frazier’s hung jaw was hysterical. Wasn’t that the beautiful truth?

Everything was dark. The light that peeked from beneath the kitchen door wasn’t enough to assault the glassy eye, nor shine against the dozens of bottles that littered the floor. The island was unmoving despite the frequent kicks and bumps it had been forced to endure over the hours. Pots and pans had been knocked from the overhang, the fridge running loudly like it was yelling for its alcohol back. Whoever the dumb fuck was had gotten so much in there, hidden it behind anything and everything inside.

How that was possible didn’t matter to Frazier. All that mattered was that it was his now and he was drinking it all.

His throat burned under the numbness that had consumed it. He felt fur matted around his lips from what escaped, sticky and smelling of booze. Frazier tipped it back again, choking on what little he could gulp down before he had to pull back. Fifteen years of nothing down his gullet and being in a different body were really testing his skills.

 _“Please,”_ Foxy begged quietly. _“Stop.”_

“Why da _you_ care?” God, he had to push so hard just to hear a shred of his own voice. “I’s no’ yer problem.”

_“Yeah, i’ really is.”_

“Because ye have ta deal wit’ i’,” Frazier said softly, sadly. That was true. Foxy was feeling the effects of the booze, it didn’t matter if he was in control or not. It wasn’t as strong as it was on Frazier, but the alcohol was still hitting Foxy. He’d have to deal with the hangover later even if Frazier successfully managed to drink himself out of existence.

_“Tha’s no’-”_

“Ye won’ ‘ave ta deal wit’ i’ much longer,” Frazier went on. He sipped from the bottle this time, savoring the prickling burn along his numb tongue. “‘ll probably be dea’ soon.”

 _“I’d prefer ye didn’ die,”_ Foxy said hurriedly.

“No’ li’e ye need me,” Frazier countered. “‘sides, no’ li’e i’s goin’ ta ‘urt ye. Can’ imagine i’ would.”

“ _Oh, sure.”_ Sarcasm dripped from Foxy’s voice. _“I’s no’ goin’ ta effect me; someone killin’ themselves inside o’ me.”_

“No’ tha’ differen’ from the firs’ time. Ye ma’e i’ through tha’ pretty well.”

Silence.

A bitter chuckle. “Was such an idio’,” Frazier mumbled. He drank the last bit of the bottle, gulping the last of it down in a hard swallow. He coughed, tossing the bottle aside. He didn’t even twitch at the loud clink it made against the floor. “Strugglin’ li’e tha’…”

 _Don’t think about it._ Frazier blinked rapidly, a stray tear escaping from the fluttering of his lid. His hand swayed to grab another bottle, fingers clumsily snagging the cap of one of the few left from the last pack.

There was a faint sting when he wedged the tip of his finger under the cap, but it wasn’t unbearable. He was strong enough to do that now, to pop caps off beer bottles. Strong enough in a body that wasn’t his; not his hand, not his arm, not even his own head.

 _“I though’ ye were fine,”_ Foxy whispered softly.

“Fine?” Frazier echoed, surprised. He couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Wha’ ma’e ye think’ tha’?”

_“Ye and Wade…”_

Just the mention of the old mechanic’s name had his fur bristling. “Don’,” he hissed sharply.

 _“I’s goin’ well,”_ Foxy said, a firmness behind his push.

“Tha’s wha’ I though’ las’ time,” Frazier responded. “Then I fucked i’ all up.”

He had taken his angry hangover out on Wade, who was just there to help him. He completely destroyed everything they had built together, years of friendship and weeks of secret love. He drove the mechanic to try working away the heartbreak, and then Wade died because of it. He killed Wade, practically murdered the poor man.

 _“Stop,”_ Foxy snipped. Frazier blinked, jumping at the sudden sound. _“Neptun’s sake, Frazier, i’s over an’ done wit’.”_

“No’ really,” the grizzled fox said. He swirled the bottle in circles, watching the liquid inside form a weak whirlpool. “We’re ‘ere now.”

_“Frazier.”_

“I’m gonna fuck i’ all up again,” Frazier went on, eye watering. He really was going to, wasn’t he? Who was he kidding, of course he was. “Li’e I always do.”

_“Ye’re goin’ ta fuck i’ up if ye keep drinkin’.”_

“I’m doin’ ‘im a favor; showin’ ‘ow much o’ a fuckup I am an’ why ‘e should punch me in the face before ‘e leaves.”

 _“He’s no’ leavin’ ye, ye fuckin’ idiot,”_ Foxy growled, annoyed. “ _Ye finally go’ ‘im back an’ ye’re jus’ goin’ ta hoist anchor?!”_

“Ye’ve been yellin’ a’ me this ‘ole time, tellin’ me wha’ an idio’ I am.” He tipped his head back and took down another swig. It didn’t burn as hotly this time. “An’ ye’re right. I’m such a fuckin’ idio’ fer goin’ ba’k in the firs’ place. I should’ve never weighed anchor or make port or whatever the fuck ye’re sayin’.”

_“Frazier-”_

“Why’d ye wan’ ta care anyways? I’s no’ li’e I’m good fer anythin’ other than cousin’ ye a headache,” he slurred out, lips popping off the glass again. “Ye won’ ‘ave ta listen ta me anymore.”

Foxy said nothing. Good, Frazier hoped he would think about that in full.

“Jus’ le’ i’ ‘appen,” Frazier slurred softly. “I’ll be gon’ befor’ ye know i’.”

_“Frazier, I fuckin’ swear-”_

The doorknob jiggled. Frazier froze.

 _“Finally,”_ Foxy said, relief obvious in his voice.

The quiet squeal of the door grated against Frazier’s ears. They folded back with his body, the grizzled fox shoving himself against the corner as much as he could.

_“Oh, now ye’re actually ashamed.”_

The comment flicked something in his head. _“Shut up!”_ Frazier screamed. He slammed his fist into his head, bottle and hand hitting him. “Shut u’, Foxy, shut u’!”

Someone said something. Frazier couldn’t hear it.

 _“Okay, okay!”_ Foxy exclaimed. The panic in his voice was obvious. _“Jus’ sto’ ‘ittin’ yerself!”_

“…er?”

His head was spinning. It throbbed from his fist and hook. “Go away,” he mumbled.

It sounded like something was rolling around, like marbles leisurely strolling. The honey eye popped open to see a blurry figure standing only steps away from him. They were towering and dark, lowly lit lights on their face a dim show of blue and yellow.

“What are you doing?”

Frazier winced at the voice. It was so deep and smooth, ran right through him. It sounded like Wade, but why would he be here? Wade hated him. “Wha’ do’s i’ loo’ li’e?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Fear spiked in his chest when they rolled towards him. They maneuvered their ankles and grabbed the table, pulling themselves to a stop, before dropping into a crouch in front of him. The smell of laundry and coffee blew over Frazier’s face.

“When’d you start drinking?”

“Fuck if I know,” Frazier muttered.

_“Please ma’e ‘im sto’, ‘e’s goin’ ta kill ‘imself.”_

“Shut i’,” Frazier growled, rolling his eye back like he could glare a hole in Foxy’s being.

The figure jerked back. “What?”

“Him,” Frazier grumbled. “Won’ shu’ u’ abou’ me drinkin’.”

“Because he’s worried about you,” came the patient response.

A bitter, watery laugh. “He’ll be glad when ‘e can ‘ave ‘s body again! He’ll be glad when I’m _gone_!” The shrill grated his burnt throat.

It looked like they winced. They looked so familiar, but who was he kidding? “Cole-”

It felt like ice was dumped down his back. “Don’,” he snarled. The figure recoiled, blurry eyes widening. “Don’ ever call me tha’. Only one person c’n call me tha’ an’ ‘e _hates_ me.”

“And why’s that?” came after a quiet moment.

The laughter hurt his throbbing heart. “Because I broke ‘is ‘eart!” A sob caught the end of his sentence. “Because I was a stupid idio’ an’ broke ‘is ‘eart!”

“…Did you?” they asked after a long moment. They sounded curious, eyeing and watching him.

“In wha’ way did I no’?” Frazier snipped. He shuffled in his spot, heaving himself into a better position. He felt so woozy and hot; not like he had been feeling good in the first place. “Ye’d be amaze’ at how lon’ ‘e managed ta p’t up wit’ me.”

A pause. “I’m sure he always loved you,” they said lightly.

“His biggest mistake. I fuck everythin’ up,” Frazier rasped. His eye stung, his nose stung, even his other stupid socket stung. Everything just fucking hurt. “I shoul’n’ ‘ave ever dragged ‘im ba’ ta me. Jus’ gonna fuck i’ all up again, jus’ ‘urt ‘im an’ ruin’ i’ all’.”

“You’re sorry, aren’t you?” they asked carefully, as if they were walking over thin ice. “You’re trying to fix things.”

“Wha’ the fuck does _that_ matter?” The push had him wheezing. “I fuckin’ killed him!”

They seemed to startle. He could tell they were gaping at him. “Frazier-!”

“I fuckin’ drove ‘im there an’ ‘e died!” Frazier screamed. They jerked back, wincing. His cheeks felt grossly damp. “I bro’e ‘is ‘eart an’ fuckin’ killed ‘im, so jus’ le’ me drink myself ta death an’ ma’e i’ up ta ‘im!”

“I-I…” they stammered.

“I broke ‘is heart, killed ‘im, an’ I’ve still go’ the fuckin’ audacity ta speak ta him,” he snarled to himself, disgusted. Frazier rubbed his face harshly, gritting his teeth. “I fuckin’ _hate_ meself.”

They didn’t say anything. They looked away, dim eyes shining onto the kitchen tiles. Frazier fell back against the wall. He shuddered at the cold surface against his back, but it was strangely refreshing; his face felt hot, everything did. The alcohol was boiling him alive, heating his skin but not numbing his brain.

_You should hit me._

Their head snapped back to him, blurry eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

Had he said that outloud? Honestly, it wasn’t like Frazier really cared. “Hit me,” he muttered again. “Do i’.”

“My god, Frazier…”

“Go a’ead,” Frazier went on, ignoring how his name was spoken so softly. He lifted his head, ignoring the sloshing in his body at the movement. “Hit me. I know ye wan’ ta, everyone wants ta a some poin’ ‘r another.”

He could tell they looked pained. He didn’t understand why, he was giving them a perfect opportunity. “I don’t…” they began, but trailed off.

“Make sure i’s hard,” he told them. “I can take jus’ ‘bout anythin’, ye ‘ave ta mean i’ ta make i’ stick.”

A long pause. Then the figure moved, eyes locked onto Frazier’s face.

The honey eye snapped shut. Fear gripped his entire body in a vice, teeth clenching and ears lowering. It wasn’t anything like before, not when he knew how she hit, and it terrified him as much as he deserved it.

Warmth cupped his cheek.

It took a minute for Frazier to work up the courage to open his eye, to face the blow, but he did. Instead of a waiting fist, there were tender eyes. The mismatched glow hurt his eyes, but Frazier could still feel the softness in the gaze. Their thumb was nestled against the side of his eye, massive hand holding his cheek.

“I’m not going to hit you.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, not for the longest moment. Then he laughed softly, a bitter, teary one. “Yeah, Wade shoul’ get the firs’ ‘it.” How could he have been so stupid?

“Wade’s not going to hit you,” was said before Frazier could finish his sentence. It was a firm, almost offended, tone. “You know he’d never do that to you.”

“…Yeah.” That wasn’t who Wade was, not at heart, but Frazier wasn’t so confident that he’d stick to his old morales after fifteen years of stewing in heartbreak. He grabbed the neck of the bottle again. “Wish ‘e would… Fer ‘is sake.”

His hand was gently intercepted by the larger, warm one. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” the voice rumbled. Frazier managed to look at them. The blurred eyes were soft. “Yeah?”

“No’ enough,” Frazier mumbled, but he was just so tired. It was like everything had been taken from him, the bottle was really all he had left at this point.

_“Ye drank more than a navy.”_

_Great._ “I definitely didn’ miss hearin’ ye.” He really should’ve cherished that quiet more.

The glass was carefully pried from his hand and set aside. It clinked quietly against the floor. “I’ll clean this up,” they told him. “Just take a minute, okay?”

“Sure,” Frazier slurred. The sound of bottles knocking into each other made his ears twitch and flatten, and he shut his eye as if he could block out the sound without sight.

 _“Ye were actually plannin’ on dyin’.”_ It was a quiet breeze of disbelief, surprise. _“Me fuckin’ sails an’ rum, Frazier, ye were actually goin’ fer i’.”_

“Ye knew tha’ already,” Frazier huffed. His jaw clenched momentarily as the bottles were gathered nosily. “What’s the issue?”

 _“Because I actually fuckin’ care abou’ ye, ye godamn prick!”_ Foxy shouted. Frazier recoiled at the sound, wincing. _“I call ye an idio’ because tha’s wha’ someone who cares abou’ ye would really do!”_

Nothing came from his mouth. He couldn’t say anything.

_“Yeah. Ye fuckin’ idio’.”_

Frazier couldn’t help a small laugh. His heart ached as much as his eye.

“Alright,” the stranger said. Frazier jumped with a small sound. He nearly forgot they were in there. His eye popped open to see them reaching for him. “Lemmie just…”

Fight or flight began to kick in. He started scrambling backwards, ears pulled back and hackles raising. “H-hey, what’re ye-?”

“Easy, easy,” they crooned. Their voice rumbled throughout his body like a wave. Frazier froze. “I’m just gonna get ya to bed, okay?

“I can walk meself,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Please.” The desperation was clear even to Frazier’s haze. “Just let me help you.”

Frazier stared at them, wide-eyed. He sighed, defeated. “Fine,” he muttered. It was humiliating, but he wasn’t that drunk.

The second the hands touched him, Frazier felt so small. Vulnerable. A quiet whine clicked in his throat, tail tucking. Irritation picked at him; he was barely even himself anymore, he couldn’t even act human on instinct. It only showed more emotion, made everyone know what he was feeling, and he hated it. They’d all see his fear.

 _“I’m righ’ here,”_ Foxy reassured him.

It didn’t fill the hole that was always there, but Frazier felt a little safer.

They nestled him against their chest. There was a soft, plush pillow against his head. Frazier could smell coffee, the smell of laundry lavender blanketing it all. The fear dissipated as fast as it appeared. It was strangely familiar, brought up faint memories drowning under the alcohol. Frazier grasped the fabric under clumsy fingers, like he’d fall from their hands the second they let go of him.

“I’ve got ya.” They turned, and then the two of them were rolling across the floor. “Let’s get ya to bed.”

Frazier had to shut his eye. The movement was too much, it made his stomach spin and head hurt. The cool breeze grazed his flushed face. The warmth against his body, the cooling air, the exhaustion in his limbs… He was already dozing.

“Where’d you even get all of that?” they asked suddenly.

 _I was comfortable._ “Found i’,” Frazier responded simply despite the small pick of irritation. “Some idio’ hi’e i’ in the fridge.”

“How’d ya know it was even in there?”

“Saw i’ few days ago.”

“Oh.” A pause. “…Were ya savin’ it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Frazier’s grip on the fabric tightened. _Don’t make me talk about it._

Their grip shifted just so. “Ya don’t have to talk about it,” they crooned. The sound of a door creaking open and clicking shut had Frazier’s ears perking. “It’s okay.”

It didn’t smell like his room, and his door didn’t make that sound either. The smell of coffee was stronger here, laced with metal and lavender detergent. As much as he wanted to say something, he kept quiet. A room was a room, and it wasn’t like he managed to pass out in his old one anyways.

His body was maneuvered, tilted. “Down ya go,” they said, lowering him. “Keep yourself up for a sec, okay?”

The bed was cool against his skin. A violent shudder rocked Frazier’s body, his teeth clenching. “Shit,” he hissed. “Fuckin’ cold,” he whined.

“It’s not that cold,” they mocked lightly. Frazier heard them open a drawer, then shut it. “I’ve got a tablet for ya, can ya handle it?”

“Why d’ya have those?” Frazier asked. He couldn’t open his eye as much as he wanted to.

“Just in case,” they responded simply. They tapped the tablet against his lips. “Open up.”

 _“Eww.”_ Disgust on Foxy’s end flooded his body. _“Glad I don’ ‘ave ta take i’.”_

 _“Ye can still taste i’, idio’.”_ Frazier hit it from their fingers and chewed it with a grimace. It tasted like chalk.

 _“Hate ye,”_ Foxy snipped.

A plastic bottle cap broke open. A hand slid under his chin and tilted his head up. “Drink some water. I know that’s not the tastiest thing.”

Water was more than welcomed to quell the numbness in his throat. Frazier sipped the slow stream of water, licking at it. He felt it slip by some of his fangs, but he managed to drink most of what was guided down his throat.

The bottle was taken away. “Still really out of it, huh?” they questioned.

Frazier grunted in response. “‘m drunk an’ tired,” he responded. He shivered again. “An’ cold,” he added, tail curling around him.

There was movement, fabric dragging against something. “Here, lift your arms up,” they said.

Frazier groaned, but threw his arms above his head. “Don’ tickle a drunk man,” he warned. “I’ll actually kill ye.”

Soft fabric slipped down his arms. The baggie shirt encased him. His eye fluttered open despite the heavy weight of his lid. The room was dark, everything was still blurry. They were standing in front of him, mismatched colored blurs watched him and body almost blending into the night of the room.

“Cozy?” they asked.

A purr erupted from his throat. “Warm,” he crooned, content. It felt so nice, so familiar and safe.

They laughed softly. “I’d hope. I just took it off.”

His eye fell shut again. He felt himself swaying in his spot.

Hands were on him. “I’ve got ya,” they told him, reassuring and light. They started to tip him over. “Here ya go.”

The pillow was soft against his head. A sigh of relief left Frazier, his body practically going limp against the mattress. A blanket was drawn to his neck. It was warm, smelled like it came out of the dryer earlier.

 _“Cozy,”_ Foxy purred. The euphoria Frazier was feeling only grew with Foxy’s emotions.

Marbles. They were rolling again, but Frazier didn’t bother lifting his ears to track them. The bed creaked; whoever had brought him here was in the bed with him, snuggling under the same blanket. It didn’t scare Frazier.

“How are ya feelin’?” they asked.

The voice was so familiar, so nice. Frazier was convinced he had fallen asleep at one point, there was no way he was awake with how nice he felt.

“‘e shoul’ hi’ me,” Frazier mumbled again. He wasn’t sure where the thought came up again. Maybe it was the fact he was wearing someone else’s clothes, something he only did with Wade. Maybe it was how soothing and deep the voice was, how it caressed over his tired body like Wade’s used to do.

 _“No’ this again,”_ Foxy mumbled, but he sounded anything but mad. _“Frazier…”_

The hand gingerly grazed his fur, running through the mess. “I think you should get some sleep,” the rumbling voice told him.

“I killed ‘im,” he said.

“You didn’t kill him, Frazier,” they responded patiently.

He wanted to believe that so badly, but how could he? He had driven Wade into a working frenzy to escape the heartache, to that awful building that became their grave, and Wade had died there.

“I think you too should talk in the mornin’,” they said after a moment.

Frazier wanted to retort, to tell them absolutely not and to stay out of his business, but he just felt so tired. He just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, but he also wanted nothing more than to see Wade. It was all so exhausting, the constant battle to fix things and the constant impulse to just give up. He slumped against the bed, heavy lid blanketing his bleary eye.

_“Nigh’, Frazier.”_

“Sleep tight, darlin’.”

Wade’s name fell asleep with him.

**\- - - - -**

The pain hit him first.

Frazier woke up, whining quietly. He dragged his hand to his head, gingerly rubbing his pounding temple. “Ugh…”

 _“Dumbass,”_ Foxy groaned inside their head. Frazier winced at it. _“I fuckin’ ‘ate ye.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Frazier muttered. He forced his eye open. He winced, blinking rapidly at the sunlight that assaulted him. He needed something for his head or else he’d die. “Shut u’-”

His voice caught in his throat.

Wade was laying next to him, face slack and peaceful. Quiet, rumbling snores rumbled throughout the wide chest. His hand was limp against the sheets.

_Oh, fuck._

He wasn’t sure what actually woke Wade up, his high squeal or him grappling at the sheets as he fell backwards off the bed. Frazier yelped when his rear and back hit the floor, groaning when his head slammed into the wood. His head was spinning like a top and his body ached like it had been spun into the walls.

“Fuck…” he groaned.

 _“Ye fuckin’ idio’,”_ Foxy grumbled.

Wade leaned over the edge of the bed, wide-eyed. “Frazier-”

“Sorry!” The ragged fox tried scrambling to his feet. The blankets only tangled further around his legs and waist, tripping him and practically slamming him back into the floor. “Didn’ mean ta get in ‘ere!”

“Frazier, wait-!”

Why was he in a hoodie? Was this Wade’s hoodie? Had he taken it from the laundry or something? Shit, he really just kept fucking up, didn’t he? He really couldn’t stop being such a stupid idiot, there wasn’t an end to his bullshit. Frazier yanked at the fabric around his neck. He shouldn’t be wearing this, he never should have put it on-

“Frazier, stop!” Wade’s booming voice had Frazier wincing. He hadn’t even been paying attention. He jerked his head back to see the grizzled bear watching him, worry and borderline fear on his face. “It’s okay, alright? Just calm down.”

 _“Stop strugglin’, idio’,”_ Foxy snapped quietly at him. _“I’s no’ li’e ye’re actually trapped.”_

Embarrassment rushed throughout his body. Frazier’s cheeks darkened. He managed to slow to a stop before sitting up. He had really just freaked out over being trapped in a blanket.

“Ah.” The ashamed sound escaped through his teeth. He braced his hand and hook on the floor and shoved himself up with a quiet grunt. The movement had him swaying dangerously, had his vision spinning wildly and head throbbing anew, but he had been through this plenty of times; he knew what he was doing.

Wade was frowning deeply at him, concern sunk into every inch of his face. “Ya didn’t hit your head too hard, did ya?” he asked.

Frazier blinked. “Uh, no,” he said, holding back a stutter. He rubbed his face, whining in his throat. As nice as the chit chat was, especially after the long bouts of quiet he was used to between him and Wade, he was really wondering… “How’d I…? Ye know…?”

“I brought you in here,” Wade told him. Frazier’s eye widened, ears perking high. “Ya didn’t sneak in or anythin’, okay?”

That was a relief, but… “Why?” Frazier asked. His heart ached at the question. What was Wade getting out of this?

“I wanted to make sure you’d be okay.” The rounded ears lowered, his face overshadowed under a dark cloud. “You were drinking a lot.”

“Oh.” Frazier looked down at the floor, flushed. “Yeah.”

“How much do you remember?” Wade asked him.

 _Everything._ “I don’ know,” Frazier mumbled. He started to turn around, biting back the nausea. “I’ll, uh, go. Thanks.”

_“Ye idiot-”_

“Cole.”

Frazier froze. He felt Foxy clam up instantly. He hesitantly looked back, grimacing. Wade was watching him, frowning and looking almost pained. “Aye?” he finally asked. He hated that he couldn’t even say a normal ‘yes’ anymore.

Wade patted the mattress gently. “Come back to bed,” he said softly.

Frazier stood there for a minute, staring at him. The forest green eyes were tinted with sleep, a deeper exhaustion than just being woken up early, but there was a sadness etched into them. It only seemed to weigh heavier the long Frazier stood there, unmoving from his spot instead of approaching the bed.

“Please,” Wade added after a beat of tense silence. His voice sounded like it was cracking.

How could he say no, to that face and that voice especially? Frazier shuffled back to the bed, dragging the blanket with him.

_“See, ye’re already anot’er step closer ta gettin’ back ta kissin’.”_

_“Shut up,”_ he growled back inside as he slowly lowered himself on his side against the mattress. He watched Wade cautiously, his fear only growing as Wade watched his every move. Frazier finally settled against the bed, tail curling against his legs. Despite the blanket he had brought back covering his legs, he still felt so exposed.

Wade let out a soft laugh. Frazier could feel it from where he was. “Come here,” he said.

The honey eye nearly popped out of Frazier’s socket. “Y-ye sure?” he stammered. Wade couldn’t be that serious, right? Why would he want to be anywhere near Frazier in the first place.

Wade looked crestfallen. “You don’t want to?” he asked, mismatched eyes starting to glass over.

Panic fluttered at Frazier’s chest. “No, no, I wan’ ta!” he blurted. “I-I jus’ didn’ think…”

The sheets were noisy under Wade’s movement. His arm reached and hooked around Frazier’s waist, pulling the grizzled fox closer. Frazier stiffened as if he’d been frozen. Warmth enveloped his body, sinking under the blankets and hoodie.

“I just wanna lay with my darlin’,” Wade murmured softly, almost sadly. Frazier tensed just so at the word. His grip on the grizzled fox tightened just so. “Please?”

It took a moment for the ice in Frazier’s body to melt away, to unwind, but then he was moving, hand gently gripping the soft fur. “Aye,” Frazier responded, his voice barely a whisper.

A relieved breath left Wade. His body seemed to deflate. “Thank you.”

Quiet. The birds were chirping outside.

Despite the hangover, Frazier could picture it all so clearly. He remembered Wade’s room, the soft sheets and tacky curtains. He could remember how the carpet felt beneath his toes, how the hardwood floors of the messy kitchen would always make him shiver whenever he stepped inside to fix the mess Wade had made. He could remember the smell of fresh laundry, the faint smoke from whatever Wade had burnt, and the toys the little terror left littered across the house.

He could picture home.

If only reality were a dream. Frazier had learned long ago that if he were dreaming, he was never waking up. This was the reality now, but he wished so badly for it to be a dream and to wake up back in Wade’s old bed before it became the nightmare he created it to be.

“It’ll get better, darlin’,” Wade whispered suddenly. Frazier’s ear perked at the sound. “It will, I promise.”

Frazier swallowed harshly.

“It’s our second chance, Frazier,” Wade choked. His shoulders shook with a repressed sob, arms tightening around the wiry body. “We’ve got another chance. Don’t leave me again when we’re finally fixin’ everything. Please, please, don’t leave me again, not like this.”

His eye stung with tears. “I won’,” he rasped, swallowing his words. He shoved his face further into Wade’s chest, fingers digging further into the dark fur. “Promise.”

There was only Wade’s ragged breathing.

“I love ye,” Frazier whispered. He felt Wade stiffen against him, but he needed to say it. He had to, he couldn’t hold this one in like the others. “I love ye so much, ye have no idea how much I love ye.”

“…I love you too,” Wade choked out. Then he managed a small, broken chuckle. “Even if you are an idiot.”

“Oaf,” Frazier grumbled.

Wade laughed. The rumbles and sound had Frazier almost on the verge of tears; he sounded genuinely happy.

“I’m gonna give ya lickin’ for drinkin’ so much.”

An annoyed growl, but Frazier just sagged into the hold. “Fine.”

“And for hogging the covers.” Wade leaned over and grabbed the blanket, dragging it over both of them “You were always such a sheethog.”

Frazier pulled back despite the headache, baring his teeth in disbelief. “Excuse me?!” he shrilled. “ _You_ were the sheethog! I would freeze ta death every time I was over because ye kept takin’ the sheets! I only ‘ad ye, ye big jerk!”

“Ah, hush,” Wade told him, giggling. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Frazier’s forehead. “You were fine, I kept you nice and warm.”

Frazier wanted to retort, to shout back at him, but the kiss had him stunned silent. He was gaping at Wade, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Wade blinked. “What?” Before Frazier could answer, red bloomed hotly on the round cheeks, the soft ears flicking high. “Oh!”

Frazier couldn’t help his giddy laugh. Wade was going to kick him out now, wasn’t he? It had to be way too awkward now if it wasn’t before. “Uh…”

The grizzled bear managed a sheepish smile. “You won’t remember that, right?” he asked.

_“He’s lettin’ ye stay, don’ ye dare fuckin’ screw this up.”_

Frazier just grinned at him and shrugged. “Probably,” he responded promptly. He laid his head back down, turning into Wade’s chest. “Already forgettin’.”

_“Nice save.”_

_“Shut up.”_

“Yeah?” Wade asked, a push in his tone. 

“Me head’s fuckin’ killin’ me,” Frazier told him. That wasn’t a lie. “Blackin’ ou’ again.”

Wade giggled. A short pause. Then, “I’m glad we have another chance,” he added, his voice a happy whisper.

“Yeah.” Frazier shut his eye, blocking out the sun and the piercing, loving eyes. “Me, too.”


End file.
